Let Your Heart Be Light
by persephoneapple
Summary: When a Daily Prophet article threatens to break apart the friendship that Draco and Harry have built up over the past few months, Draco must decide if it's worth revealing the true feelings he has for Harry. [AO3 tags: Post-Hogwarts, EWE, Auror Harry Potter, Christmas, Grimmauld Place, H/D Erised]


**Let Your Heart Be Light**  
 **Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron [G, 7643 words]**  
 **Disclaimer:** JK Rowling and co own everything. I'm writing for fun and not for profit.  
 **A/N:** keeper_of_stars, I do hope you enjoy this. Thank you to my beta, A, who cleaned up my messes. Thanks to the mods for hosting this fest and a happy holidays to all the readers. Written for H/D Erised 2018.  
 **Summary:** When a _Daily Prophet_ article threatens to break apart the friendship that Draco and Harry have built up over the past few months, Draco must decide if it's worth revealing the true feelings he has for Harry.

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Let Your Heart Be Light

As soon as Draco regained his balance after arriving by Portkey, he frowned. He turned around to see if the Portkey had accidentally deposited him in a different location, but no, there were framed photographs of Harry and his friends on the fireplace mantle.

Draco had expected to find Grimmauld Place bursting with light, the delicious aroma of sugar biscuits wafting from the kitchen, and at the very least, Celestina Warbeck playing on the Wireless. It was the first of December, the very earliest that Draco would let Harry decorate for Christmas, and Harry had insisted he would take the day off to take full advantage of it.

Hermione had told Draco that Harry, if left to his own devices, would start to decorate the minute Halloween was over. It wouldn't be too much at first, a sprig of holly here and there, maybe a porcelain figurine on the kitchen table. However, it wouldn't take long until Harry would drag a tree inside the house and insist on Draco helping him decorate.

Harry had been excited about the Christmas season, and, whenever Ron and Hermione were over, would start planning out the dinners and food he wanted to bake when he hosted this year's Christmas dinner. That was all Harry had talked about for weeks, not even dismayed by the lack of enthusiasm his friends had shown.

Instead, the living room was dark and cold, silent except for the sound of his own footsteps as he tried not to bump into things. Draco slowly dropped his messenger bag and held his wand out, _Lumos_ on the tip of his tongue, then thought better of it. Harry had insisted on teaching him surveillance spells if Draco ever thought something was wrong.

The spells showed that no one was in this house and had not been there for quite some time. An _Accio_ did not reveal a note from Harry. Still, Draco walked through the house, opening and closing each door until he returned to the kitchen.

Draco sighed. He had spent three weeks abroad and had forgotten about the time difference between Montreal and London. It was three in the morning and no sane person would be awake right now. Perhaps Harry was out on the field and hadn't had time to leave a note.

Draco thought about sending an owl to Hermione, but decided against it. If she was not already up waiting for her husband to return, then he didn't want to disturb her. She was heavily pregnant with her second child and already had a young daughter at home. She needed all the sleep she could get.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he had not eaten since arriving at the international departure point in Montreal. He had been looking forward to a homemade meal from Harry, but had to settle for a sandwich, something simple that he could make.

Draco was shit at cooking, no matter how hard he tried to think otherwise. When Draco had first admitted that he didn't know how to cook, Harry didn't ridicule him, but rather showed him how to make simple meals. Harry was the cook in this household; Draco was mostly there to supervise and sample because he had a refined palate.

Draco returned to the living room with his sandwich and cup of coffee and sat down on the lumpy sofa that Harry insisted on keeping. A quick wave of his wand had a fire burning so that he wasn't in shadows. He was dead tired, but wanted to stay awake until Harry arrived. Sighing, he reached down and plucked a random book out of the messenger bag he had brought from Montreal.

He was a book restorer of sorts, nothing as glamourous or heroic as Harry, who had not bothered to return to Hogwarts. Instead, he and Ron Weasley had gone straight into Auror training where they had quickly risen in the ranks. In the early days, the _Prophet_ had written countless articles about them, until Harry had threatened to sue them for endangering the Aurors.

Draco dealt in books because that was his refuge during the war. After the Dark Lord had given him that impossible task of murdering Albus Dumbledore, Draco had searched for any scrap of information in books that could help him, both legal and illegal. When the Dark Lord had resided at the Manor, Draco would take as many books from the library to hide in his bedroom under the cover of revising for exams.

After the war, he continued to hide behind books. Harry had managed to spare him from Azkaban, but he still had to figure out what he was going to do for the rest of his life. Draco was fortunate that the Manor remained and that he still had a small fortune to live comfortably. His parents were alive, but had decided to take a permanent holiday in Italy rather than stay in England. Nothing was gone, really, except for his reputation. So he had to work, or he would go mad.

He found himself with this job after the war as he was going through the books in the Manor. The Ministry had confiscated as many dark items that they could find and they had specifically targeted the library. Whatever remained was left in tatters and while many of books had been preserved and protected with spells, those had lapsed and were now in serious need of repair.

It had kept him out of the public eye, which was what he needed, and it had kept him busy. He mended the pages and spines of books, made sure that the book covers were restored and gleamed like new, and redid the print in the book so that it was no longer faded. The last thing he did was place new preservation spells so that the books could not fall apart as easily. All of the books that he had worked on were donated to the Hogwarts library. It would in no way forgive his actions during the war, but it was a start.

The first few years he hadn't looked for business, as it was just a hobby for him. Then Draco had started working on his friends' libraries, which led to helping out other families who had fought on the wrong side of the war. Professor McGonagall had even taken an interest to his hobby and had recommended several people that needed his services.

Draco was surprised when he had received a letter from Harry Potter, on the advice of Professor McGonagall, asking him to sort out Severus Snape's library. He was going to say yes no matter what. After all, who wouldn't want a chance to look through his former professor's belongings, especially when he had found out it contained private journals.

They had agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, where they would work out the details of the agreement. What he hadn't expected was to see how much Harry Potter had changed. Physically, he was no longer the scrawny, malnourished boy he remembered from Hogwarts. The Auror training programme had done wonders to change that.

Harry Potter was also a lot more confident and it showed in the way he talked to Draco, no fumbling words, or quick outbursts whenever he was irritated. He kept his emotions in check and when he spoke, he commanded the attention of everyone around him.

And, after that initial meeting, when he still had Harry Potter on his mind a few days later, then Draco knew that he was becoming obsessed with him yet again. It had probably never left at all and Draco had just managed to compartmentalise his emotions, but now it had returned in full force.

So he had to settle by going every now and then to nightclubs, trying not to rationalise why he always seemed to pull someone who had dark hair and bright eyes. Even when he had moved into Grimmauld Place so that he could work on the books in that library, Draco hadn't let himself hope that something could start.

Harry Potter already had a boyfriend and Draco was not going to destroy that happy relationship.

Draco finished the rest of his coffee and sighed. He had fallen into that disgusting habit that Harry had introduced him to and now he was too keyed up to attempt to sleep. He closed the book and glanced at his watch, surprised when he saw that it was a little past five in the morning.

He rose from the couch and stretched, groaning at each crack that signified he was getting old. He looked around the empty room and decided that he would surprise Harry and start decorating. Harry had already dragged all the Christmas decorations down from the attic and stuck them in the closet near the living room.

The boxes threatened to fall as soon as the door opened and it took a quick spell to keep them balanced. Draco flicked his wand and had the boxes trail him back into the living room. He rekindled the fire and turned on the wireless, before sitting on the sofa and trying to see where he could start. At least the boxes were already labeled with Harry's messy handwriting.

Draco didn't have any idea on how to decorate the house. The house-elves usually decorated the Manor under the guidance of his mother. All he remembered was that icicles hung from the ceiling, ice sculptures would be at the center of the Manor's gardens, and that underneath the tree would be a huge pile of presents that showed off his family's wealth. Draco was more preoccupied on not disappointing his father as he mingled with the guests.

The first box he opened was filled with what was supposed to be fake snow, but was rather yellow and full of moth holes where the preservation spells had not held. He snorted. Why would anyone use fake snow when there was a perfectly good charm instead? Where was this supposed to go? On the carpet?

Draco pushed the box of snow aside and opened another. Inside he found a Santa Claus figurine, a plastic snowman with a carrot nose, and stockings that were made of thick wool and had a letter stitched on.

Thankfully, the next box contained ornaments that were wrapped carefully in tissue paper and stored in individual compartments. Unwrapping a few, Draco could see why they were treated with such care. Each ornament was handmade, one for each year beginning with the end of the war. The one he held in his hand had a photo of Harry, Ron and Hermione smiling and waving at the photographer, while another had a yellow handprint on it with 'Teddy' written in turquoise.

Draco couldn't help himself. He unwrapped more and more ornaments, looking at all the pieces and snapshots of Harry's life, until he had them all spread out on the table. He was saddened at the thought that while they were on friendlier terms, Draco really didn't know Harry as well as he thought he did.

He was curious to find out what Harry's ornament would be like this year. Would it include something about Draco?

The flames went out in the fireplace and Draco looked up, alarmed. It was soon replaced with green flames and then two forms rushed out, tripping over the carpet, and coughing uncontrollably.

Draco had his wand out and had the name of a spell on the tip of his tongue when he recognised Harry's voice. He was spread out on his back, his arm in a sling, and he was not wearing his Auror uniform. Harry grimaced, but didn't say anything or move even after Draco called out his name.

Ron Weasley, who did have his red uniform on that was covered in tears and dark stains that looked like blood, stood up and offered Harry a hand.

"What's wrong with him?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

"A little trouble out on a raid, but everything's fine now," Ron answered and he bent down to help Harry stand up. "What are you doing here? Weren't you in Montreal?"

Draco didn't answer Ron's questions as he was too focused on Harry who was still on the ground and was clutching at the sling. "That does not look fine," Draco said, "what happened, Harry?"

If Harry heard Draco speak at all, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Ron, I'm fine!" Harry said, exasperated. "I can do this by myself, you know."

Draco let out a sigh of relief. If Harry was coherent enough to insist that he was fine, then the raid must not have been too horrible and he could stop imagining all the ways Harry had been hurt. "Do you need anything? If you give me the list, I can brew some potions."

Ron shook his head. "We already got the potions at St Mungo's. I'm just putting him to bed. He didn't want to stay at St Mungo's."

That explained why Harry wasn't home when Draco arrived a few hours earlier. Harry was injured on the job and it was serious enough to warrant him admittance to St Mungo's. "Is there anything I can do? If you're hungry, Harry, I can make you sandwich. I'm afraid there's not much else."

At least that got a reaction out of Harry, although it wasn't one that Draco was expecting. He glared at Draco, something that Draco had not experienced from Harry since before the war. It shocked Draco and made him question what this raid was all about. Was there some sort of Dark artefacts that had been connected to the Malfoys? It surely affected Harry more than Ron and that couldn't be anything good.

Ron whispered something to Harry, who nodded, and then they their way slowly out of the room. When they passed the table where all the ornaments were laid out, Harry faltered in his steps and Ron had to reach out to steady him. Draco held his breath wondering what Harry would say to that, but Harry only schooled his features into a blank stare.

Draco could hear them go slowly up the creaking stairs, which didn't do much to drown out the rush of thoughts that came out in his head. The most important one was: _Why was Harry acting like this?_

Draco didn't want to wait around for Ron to come back. He started wrapping the ornaments with care and placing them into the original container as fast as he could. The boxes were stacked neatly on the table and he was picking up his messenger bag when the sound of the Wireless shutting off finally got him to notice that Ron had returned. He looked a little worse for wear and his voice a little raspy when he spoke. "Listen, Malfoy, I need a favour."

Draco stood still. He had half a mind to just ignore Ron, but he was curious to see what really happened to Harry. "What?"

"Harry broke his arm because he wasn't paying attention on a raid and had to have his arm mended. He has some potions to take if any pain persists," Ron said.

"I thought he was a top notch Auror. What could have distracted him to the point that he became injured?" Draco said, crossing his arms. It felt good being a little petty. Ron's face even turned a shade a red that clashed with his hair, something that Draco didn't think was even possible. "Well, he should be as good as new by tomorrow, right? I mean, he did go through something like this in second year."

Ron nodded. "Well, the only reason that Harry was allowed to discharge and return to Grimmauld Place was if someone was here to take care of him in case he needed anything," Ron said, scratching the back of his head. There was a long stretch of pink skin on the side of his neck that had been recently healed. "But I wanted to go home to Hermione and tell her that Harry is okay. She's rather worried about him, but couldn't go to St Mungo's that far along unless it's time to deliver the baby."

Draco, despite Ron taking his time with his fumbling words and hesitation, already knew what he was going to ask. He wanted to be childish and say no, especially since the cold expression that Harry had given him earlier was fresh on his mind. "You saw what Harry was like just now. I don't think that's a good idea."

Ron walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder. "Harry's already agreed to it."

"How did you manage that?"

"I told him it was either this or he would find himself with a Howler within the hour. So will you help him?"

He nodded and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. Hermione and I will come over this evening." He threw the powder in the fireplace, called out his destination, and disappeared.

Draco dropped his messenger bag on the sofa and made his way upstairs. He stood in front of Harry's door and knocked, but did not receive a response. He knocked harder and even pressed his ear against the door, but was greeted with silence. He had the feeling that Harry wouldn't ask for any help tonight.

He sleep was interrupted by bits of tossing and turning and waking up because he thought he heard Harry calling out to him. The first time he had stumbled out of bed and checked, he found that Harry had locked the door with spells that a simple _Alohomora_ would not fix. Fine, Draco thought. He hoped Harry had a restless night as well.

Draco opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. His room was too bright and as he fumbled around searching for his wand, his teeth chattered because it was far colder than usual. He cast a warming spell and opened his eyes once more.

The brightness of the room was a result of snow falling outside. Draco stood and walked over to the window and pressed his hands against the glass. It was beautiful outside; the world was blanketed in a winter wonderland. Draco felt a twist of excitement through his stomach. He couldn't wait to go downstairs to tell Harry that it was finally time to start decorating for Christmas.

He was almost out of his room when he remembered the events of last night.

There was no possible way he was going downstairs to an irritable Harry, especially when he didn't know why Harry was acting odd around him. The bed creaked as Draco sat on it and he sighed as he looked around the room. There were no personal belongings here. He just had his books and clothes and if he needed anything else, he ordered it by owl. There were no photographs or letters from friends or family, only business letters that he filed away after he was done with a job.

Perhaps it was time to leave. Draco had already finished restoring and cataloging all of the books in the library. He had a list of books that Harry could donate if he wished to do so, and the few books that he could not salvage would be sent to the Ministry for further inspection.

He really didn't need to stay. In fact, the only reason he did was because he had enjoyed his time with Harry. Harry, who had become someone Draco could trust and whom he still had a bit of a crush on. Not that it mattered. Harry had never shown any interest in him other than friendship.

No matter what he felt, he still had to go check up on Harry. Draco reluctantly changed into a thick jumper, one that Mrs Weasley had knitted for Harry, and walked to Harry's room. The door was ajar but there was no one when he peered inside. On the nightstand were several different coloured potions, all sealed. Draco scowled. Trust Harry to ignore his Healer's orders.

Draco hurried down the stairs. Why was it that Harry never followed any rules, even when it involved his own health?

The dining room and kitchen were also empty and Draco used his wand to see if there was any note that could be _Accio_ 'd. There was none. A little bit of panic began to set in. Draco had half a mind to Firecall Ron no matter that it was still early and he was probably still asleep.

He stopped himself. Harry was an adult and he could take care of himself, most of the time. If he was really in trouble, then Ron would have been over by now with his wand an inch from hexing Draco. Besides, it wouldn't be long before the entire Weasley family came over to check up on Harry. With them would probably be Nick, Harry's boyfriend. Draco was surprised that he hadn't come over as soon as possible. After all, he did work at St Mungo's and had probably heard the news by now.

When Draco had finished making his omelette and his cup of green tea, he sat down at the kitchen table. There was no subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ , something that Harry had insisted on when Draco had come to stay. Draco decided that he would get another book from his bag.

He made it all the way to the living room before there was loud banging on the front door. He slowly approached the door, wand out in his hand, and peered through the eye hole. All he could see was green, but he did recognise the voice that said, "Open up, Draco!"

The door burst open and Harry barged past him, struggling to drag in a tree. It must have been about seven feet tall and the scent was overbearing. Pine needles scattered all over the floor and bits of snow came into the house.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be using your arm for anything," Draco said. He flicked his wand to make the tree lightweight and then dragged the rest inside, slamming the door behind him. Harry took off his hat and gloves and started unraveling the scarf from around his neck. His eyes sparkled and his face was red from the cold wind.

"It's snowing and it's the first day of December. It's time to decorate for Christmas so I had to get a tree," Harry said, as if the argument last night had not happened.

"A tree," Draco repeated. "You went out this morning, in this storm, for a tree? And you decided to drag it here with your hurt arm?"

Harry frowned. "Well, I couldn't levitate the tree in front of the Muggles. I had to drag the tree so that I could Apparate without them knowing. Even then, I couldn't Apparate right into the house. I could have done some serious damage. The Muggles would have noticed if I had destroyed my house," Harry said.

Draco couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"Even though it's absolutely freezing, it's so gorgeous out there. Have you made any breakfast?" Harry asked, pushing his way into the kitchen. Draco's breakfast was still on his table and Harry did not ask as he began to eat. Draco let him, as Harry had probably not eaten a proper meal in over a day.

"Are you actually talking to me now?" Draco said as he made himself another cup of tea. "Or are we going to pretend that nothing happened?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Harry said, adding more milk and sugar to his tea. Draco shuddered. He didn't know how Harry could take his tea like that. However, he would not be distracted by Harry's ridiculous eating habits.

"Don't be an idiot. We are no longer students at Hogwarts," Draco said. "Look, I know that I don't have any right to be, but I was worried when I arrived from Montreal and you were nowhere to be found. At least I tell you when I'll be gone."

There was silence in the room and Draco had a feeling that Harry was trying to figure out a way to get out of this conversation. He just continued to eat, ignoring Draco, who finally had enough of Harry's evasiveness.

"How's your arm?" Draco said, his last chance to be civil.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. Forget civility. He would need a whole lot of alcohol if he wanted to get through this conversation, but it was far too early to start drinking. "So that I can inform Ron that when I finally left, you said that there was nothing wrong with your arm."

That got Harry's attention and he glanced at Draco, confusion written all over his face. "You're leaving?"

Draco nodded. "You'll be interested to know that I finished cataloging and restoring the books in the library." He sent his cup over to the sink and flicked his wand so that it washed itself. "I fulfilled my end of the contract so, logically, it's time for me to leave."

He had not walked more than a few steps from the kitchen before he heard the scratching of the kitchen chair against the floor. His arm was grabbed from behind, not forcibly to hurt him, but Draco stopped just the same.

"Please don't go," Harry said.

"I don't see any reason why I should stay," Draco replied. He glanced back to see that Harry had a worried expression on his face and he frowned when Draco added, "Especially when I know that I'm no longer wanted here."

"That's not true," Harry said.

"You cannot convince me otherwise," Draco replied.

Harry took several deep breaths and let them out slowly. "Fine, do you want to know what happened last night?" Harry asked.

"Ideally, yes. Ron only said that the mission you were on was not even a dangerous one, but that you were distracted and you broke your arm." Draco sighed. "I know that's rubbish because you take your job too seriously to ever be distracted by anything."

Harry shook his head. "I was distracted because of this." Harry reached into his pocket and handed him a slip of parchment. Draco only had to see that it was from the _Daily Prophet_ to know that it was not going to be good news.

Draco smoothed out the creases on the newspaper. The entire top half featured a grainy photograph of Draco, recognised by his white-blond hair, coming out of a pub and following someone into a dark alley. From the way he was stumbling and clutching brick building, he had had more than enough to drink. Draco didn't even need to view the remainder of the loop to know that it had resulted in him getting a blow job.

The funny thing was that were he not infamous, this would not have made the newspaper, much less the front page. It was tabloid fodder and must have been the result of a desperate reporter on a slow news day. This particular photo had been taken three days ago when he was still in Montreal.

He stared blindly at the words accompanying the photograph, too embarrassed to even look at Harry. The other man, just a kid really, was a university student whom Draco had worked with all week as he had restored and translated a rare potions book. Louis had flirted with Draco, bringing him tea and homemade pastries, and had insisted that they have dinner each night. Draco had done his best to dissuade him, but Louis had not taken the hint. It didn't help matters that every time Draco had looked up, he thought he saw Harry, only to realise that it was actually Louis.

When Louis had seen no progress with his gestures, he had taken to accidentally touching Draco, whether it be leaning against him whilst they read documents, or clasping their hands together to pull through the crowded hallways.

On the night in question, Draco had been out celebrating a colleague's birthday. One drink had turned into many and he had only seen that the man in front of him had messy black hair and hazel eyes, close enough to green in the dim light.

As much had he had enjoyed it in the moment, he had regretted it ever since. It made him sick and uneasy that he could twist's Harry's friendship for his own personal use. His disgust only grew when he read the _Prophet_ 's headline: _Death Eater Draco Malfoy_ Imperio _s Harry Potter_.

"Who gave you this?" Draco said at last. He crumbled up the newspaper, trying to control the adrenaline and anger coursing through his body as he struggled to think. He looked up to see Harry standing there with his arms crossed against his chest, glancing outside the kitchen window.

"I don't know. This was on my desk when I arrived at work yesterday. Robards demanded that someone examine me just to make sure that I didn't have any dark spells placed on me."

Draco felt a drop of unease start to grow in the pit of his stomach. "Harry, whatever I have done in the past, I would never use dark spells against you. I wouldn't risk Azkaban for something as stupid as this."

"I know it isn't true!" Harry interrupted, taking off his glasses to clean them. "Don't you think that I know that you are not capable of doing that, not anymore." Without his glasses he looked vulnerable and Draco had to squash down the urge to place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

"It's just, unexpected, that's all," Harry continued. "The _Prophet_ hasn't been this vile about me in a while and you know how people are willing to believe anything. I'm sick of it. I'm finally out of the papers and then this happens. I'm sick of all the attention."

Draco snorted. Unexpected. That was a good word for it. "Actually, this photograph is about me. Why would I need to _Imperio_ you?" His laughter quickly died when Harry didn't join in.

"I don't know. It's been almost ten years since the war ended, but I wouldn't be surprised if people believed you did it under Voldemort's orders." Harry was breathing hard and he tugged down at the sleeves of the ghastly Weasley jumper he wore. "They've believed worse and there was nothing I could do or say to convince them otherwise. If you haven't noticed, I can't exactly go around and _Obliviate_ every person who has read this article."

Draco used his wand to _Incendio_ the paper. "That's rubbish. Make them print out a retraction. Or an apology though I doubt you'll get that. I'm surprised Ron didn't say anything yesterday when dropping you off. What about the other Weasleys? Or Nick? What does he think about this?"

Draco did not expect the silence, not when Harry had just been so animated a few minutes before. Harry sank back in his chair and stared sullenly down at the plate in front of him.

"Harry, what's wrong? What are you not telling me?" Draco asked.

"Ron and Hermione know it's not true. All of my friends know that I can throw off the Imperious Curse."

"So that's not the problem. Is it Nick? Do you want me to talk to him? I'll tell him that it wasn't you in the photograph."

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to do that."

"Why not?" Draco said.

Harry muttered something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Draco sat down across from Harry and leaned forward in his chair in case Harry decided to speak softly again.

Harry cleared his throat. "I said that we broke up the day after you left for Montreal."

"What? That was three weeks ago." Harry was single. This was something that Draco had never dared to hope happen. "Impossible. What did he do?"

Harry took a sip of his cold tea and sighed. "Nothing. Everyone thinks that I'm heartbroken. I'm really not. Nick is nice. Boring, but nice and predictable. After the life I've had, maybe that should be enough. But it's not."

Draco had met Nick several times in passing, but had only ever really talked about Quidditch scores with him. Draco agreed that he was nothing special, but he did treat Harry right. As far as Draco knew, he could find no major fault with him. Harry never said anything negative about Nick. He did with Draco, when they had reminisced about the Hogwarts and what utter prats they both had been. But Draco deserved that.

He couldn't understand Harry's decision. "Why would you do that?"

"I realised that I couldn't imagine a long-term relationship with Nick and it wasn't fair to either one of us to stay." Harry rubbed at his eyes. "The biggest reason we split is because there was someone on my mind whom I thought I could work up the courage to ask out, but I always thought that he couldn't feel the same way."

There were times Draco wished he could cast _Legilimens_ and peer into Harry's mind. But he couldn't, wouldn't do that to anyone. Especially after having the Dark Lord enter his own mind and seeing everything he wanted to keep hidden.

Instead, he stared at Harry, trying to decipher if Harry was telling the truth. He wouldn't risk revealing his feelings until he knew for certain. Without the glasses on his face, Harry looked a bit shy and vulnerable as he waited for Draco's reaction.

Draco specialised in self-sabotage. "No. If you are talking about me, then that is ridiculous. You hardly even know me."

"Now that's hardly fair," Harry protested, putting on his glasses. "I do know you, Draco, a lot better than I did at Hogwarts. For starters, you selected a job that wasn't connected to anything you could do to improve your reputation. You didn't wait for your parents to sort your life out even though they were the cause of most of your problems. You found something that you were passionate about and that's really admirable. I've heard good things about you from Professor McGonagall and you know she doesn't mince words."

"That's one person," Draco argued, but Harry continued as if he hadn't interrupted.

"When you moved in to help me with the library, many of my friends had doubts. They thought that we wouldn't last a week working together, given our history. I liked the person you have become. You are someone who is a terrible cook and watches Muggle films in secret."

Draco opened his mouth to protest that he was simply curious about the films, but Harry cut him off.

"Please let me finish. I didn't realise how important you had become to me until you left for Montreal and I was stuck at Grimmauld Place by myself. I missed your company more than I ever thought possible. When I saw the newspaper yesterday morning and how it affected me more than I thought it would. It's the reason I wound up in St Mungo's after all."

"You were injured because of me?" Draco asked unable to stop the question from slipping out of his mouth.

Harry's cheeks turned red, but his voice was steady when he replied. "Just a broken arm, but it's hardly the worst injury I've ever had. The Healers at St Mungo's wanted to keep me overnight for observation."

"For good reason," Draco said. His shoulders sagged as if a great deal of weight had slipped off and he knew that all the missed sleep was starting to catch up to him. "Perhaps the Healers should have done a more thorough head examination. They must have missed something if you are saying those things right now."

Harry frowned, opening and closing his mouth as if he thought better of it. Instead, he reached across the table and took Draco's hand in his. His fingers were callused and tanned, very different from Draco's own, but they still sent a spark of warmth through Draco's body.

"That doesn't make it any less true. I do like you. Fancy you even. Ron says I'm mental."

Agreeing with Ron was something that Draco never thought he would do, but there was always a first time for everything. "I second that. Harry, as a Gryffindor, you wear your emotions on your sleeve. It's an unfortunate trait, but in the months that I have been saying here, you haven't said a word. You've been in a relationship with another person for longer than that. Whatever you feel for me is simply not real."

Harry's hand tightened. "How could I have said something when I knew you frequently went out to pull? A different person every night? I didn't want to become another person that you ticked off a list."

Draco should have been embarrassed that Harry had taken notice of what he had thought had been discrete outings, but he was distracted by the hurtful reaction he felt hearing Harry say those words.

His old self-preservation instinct kicked back in and he tugged his hand away from Harry's grip and stood up. "It would have never worked, Harry. Your friends don't even like me and you value their opinion," Draco said. "We're too different."

"That's not true. Hermione loves the idea that you're restoring books and preserving history. She has a few suggestions if you are interested. Ron might not like you as much, but he doesn't hate you so that has to count for something. He wouldn't have left you with me if he didn't trust you." Harry stood up and walked over until he was standing in front of Draco. "Even if they did say something, it shouldn't matter because this relationship is just between us. I think we'd could prove them wrong if you only gave us a chance."

"I don't know what to say, Harry." Here were the words that Draco had longed to hear, going farther back than just these past few months. He had wanted to slot himself in Harry's life since they were eleven years old. Of course, being his enemy wasn't the best way to go about it, but he was an idiot as a child. Now that he was an adult, and had learned from his mistakes, perhaps it was time to let himself accept Harry's request.

"Don't say anything at all and help me decorate the tree," Harry said simply. He flicked his wand and sent their dishes over to the sink.

Draco was thankful for the change in subject. "What about your arm?" he asked, despite following Harry into the living room.

"It aches a little if I twist it the wrong way, but otherwise its fully healed." Harry flexed his arm and grinned when Draco rolled his eyes.

"I thought you would have returned to your job as soon as possible," Draco said, sitting down and unpacking the box of decorations. He watched Harry struggle with the tree, trying to drag it next to the window, the branches seeming to smack Harry the entire time he moved. Draco finally gave in and levitated the tree to the correct spot.

"I can't. Robards ordered me to take a few days off to recuperate. He probably thought that I would stay in bed, but I'd rather decorate instead. Much better for my state of mind."

After starting a fire in the fireplace, Harry sat across from Draco. He grinned and said, "Where do you want to start?"

They spent the afternoon decorating Grimmauld Place, arranging the baubles and figurines in strategic positions that only Harry could make sense of. The place soon buzzed with Celestina Warbeck singing and the two of them sipping hot cocoa with far too many marshmallows.

Harry revealed to Draco that after defeating Voldemort, he had begun buying anything that caught his attention in order to decorate for Christmas. That explained the odd choices such as a dancing Santa wearing only swim trunks and sunglasses that played what Draco assumed was a Muggle song just by listening to the lyrics.

"I'm surprised you didn't hang any mistletoe," Draco said, arranging the poinsettias. The plants were unlike anything Draco had ever seen in Herbology, but Harry had assured him that all they did was wave and dance if someone sang to them. He hadn't demonstrated, citing his less-than-stellar singing, but his cheeks had turned slightly pink.

Harry laughed. "Luna says that it's full of Nargles so I never put any up."

They had saved the tree for last. Harry had carefully strung lights and tinsel with such precision that Draco suspected he had used magic despite claiming otherwise. Candy canes, colourful popcorn strings, and large bows hung from each branch. Each handmade ornament was gently placed on the branches. Harry had even charmed miniature Snitches to fly around the tree.

Instead of angel at the top of the tree, Harry had placed the constellation Canis Major that was suspended inside an orb, with each star represented by a small crystal. "I use this to honor my godfather," Harry said. "I didn't have much time with him, but I never forgot every piece of advice he ever told me. Which reminds me. Here," Harry said, placing a transparent ornament in his hand. The accidental touch startled Draco, who did his best not to let the ornament fall.

"What's this?"

"This ornament is for you to decorate. Tomorrow, my godson Teddy is coming over to bake some biscuits and make hot cocoa and I was wondering if you would join us. I've been telling Teddy about you and he's excited to meet you. Only if you want to, of course."

Draco didn't even hesitate before saying yes. "I'd like that. I know Mother always wanted to reconnect with her sister and this would be a perfect way to start. Only if it's alright with you."

Harry smiled. "Of course. Family is important to me and I wouldn't have offered if I didn't agree. Now, are you ready to light the tree?"

Draco nodded.

A few flicks of Harry's wand had both the lights and fire extinguished. At first nothing happened, but then the fairy lights slowly twinkled and the ornaments sparkled, and then a light dusting of snow began to fall down onto the branches. Draco was even tempted to snatch a Snitch that was buzzing right in front of him. They stood there for several minutes admiring the tree.

"I don't think I've seen such a lovely sight in quite a while, have you?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Harry said quietly. When Draco turned to ask him another question, he found that Harry was looking not at the Christmas tree, but at him.

Draco's voice faltered under Harry's gaze. He didn't recall the last time someone had looked at him like he was worth something. He was used to being glared at, spit upon, and sometimes just ignored, but Harry didn't do any of those things. He had treated Draco as an equal and someone who cared a great deal about him.

If Draco wanted to pursue a relationship, he needed to get a few things off his chest. He decided to start with the newspaper debacle as it was the easiest and most recent.

"Harry, I'm sorry about the newspaper."

"It isn't your fault," Harry protested.

"No, let me finish. You have been nothing but civil since I came here. Then last night, when you wouldn't even look at me, it had me thinking what I could have done to warrant such a reaction. Then I saw the _Prophet_ and I understood why you felt that way. I seemed to have ruined your privacy with another one of my careless actions. I had half a mind to go and pack my things to leave."

"And now? Do you still want to leave?" Harry asked. Again, he grabbed Draco's arm as if he was afraid that Draco would Apparate away.

"I'm not leaving, Harry," Draco said. "But I do have something for you, as an apology of sorts. I was going to wait and give this to you for Christmas, but I think you should have it right now." Draco _Accio_ 'd a book from his messenger bag and handed it to Harry, his fingers trembling a little as he waited for Harry's reaction.

Harry's puzzled look soon changed into surprise when he opened it and saw what was inside. Draco had found the journal hidden in the floorboards of Sirius Black's room. Inside, the pages were filled with drawings and scribbles that Sirius had probably written in order to keep him entertained during his lessons. "It was Sirius Black's journal. Your father wrote in it frequently. So did Professor Lupin."

Harry was tracing the words on the page, but he did look up in order to say, "Thank you, Draco. This is possibly one of the best presents I've ever received." Even in the dim light, Draco could see the tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Draco gave in and kissed Harry, who obviously had not been expecting it. Even a chaste kiss such as this was better than a heated kiss inside a nightclub. It filled Draco with a warmth that he expected he would never find anywhere else on this cold winter's day.

"I take it back," Harry said when they broke apart to breathe. "That might be the best Christmas present I've ever received."

Draco couldn't help but agree. Harry kissed him again before they settled down on the sofa to read the musings of Harry's family and friends, their hands clasped tightly together.


End file.
